Mirror Mirror
by Shipping-All-Ships
Summary: Tom Riddle was once just a little ten year old boy living in an orphanage. Fifteen years later, he sits across form, Dumbledore, head psychologist of Hogwarts Ward for the Criminally Insane, sedated and chained with six confirmed murders and several attempted on his record. WARNING: GORE, PEDOPHILIA, MURDER, RAPE, ATTEMPTED RAPE, GENERALLY CREEPINESS. Gotta warn y'all somehow.
1. Chapter 1

**_DO YOUR EYES DECIVEV YE? NAY, TIS THE LONG AWAITED CONTINUATION OF "Everyone Is Batshit"! FEAST UPON ITS GORE AND INSANITY FILLED GLORY LOYAL FANS WHO I THINK HAVE BEEN FORCED TO WAIT NEARLY HALF A YEAR!  
This is probably going to be the only Authors note, unless there's something I feel y'all REALLY need to know, so don't worry about seeing this ever chapter._**

* * *

 _There was blood everywhere._

 _So, so much blood._

 _Blood on the walls._

 _Blood on the floor._

 _Blood on his precious,_ precious _mirror._

 _Oh no, that would not do. He was trying to get the boy's attention, maybe to get him to help, not scare him off._

"Children? Are you alright?"

 _He dropped the knife and it clattered to the floor, right beside the body of Mary._

 _He wouldn't call it a body anymore, it was more exposed bones and guts now than actual skin._

"I heard screaming."

 _Pause._

"Don't make me come up there!"

 _He raised his hand to touch the other boy's shoulder –they looked alike! Maybe they were long lost siblings? - And was shocked to come into contact with a cold, invisible surface._

 _He slid his hand down he invisible field, watching as bloody tracks were left from his fingers. He frowned, tilting his head in thought._

 _How could he get the boys attention?_

"Stupid brats. Always with the screaming and never answering –you better not be bothering the Riddle boy again!"

 _Oh, never again will they, he thought, giggling as he picked up Andy's head by the hair. His body was lying beside Mary's, the blood from his neck mixing with hers._

 _Andy never believed him about the boy on the other side. None of the children did, but Andy was the most vocal about it. Maybe all he needed was a closer look!_

"Now, I'm going to ask one more time, what's with all the –Oh my God!" Mrs. Cole, head matron for Wool's orphanage, screamed.

The room was furnished like every other in the orphanage, with one exception. A single bed with a large mirror and desk, walls splashed with a deep shade of red. All the other rooms were a pale cream color, some of them with yellowing flower wallpaper.

She gagged when she realized what the red coloring was that stained the walls and a putrid odor hit her nose. The scent of death and blood, mixing and fermenting in the heat of the room, was not a pleasant scent. She covered her mouth and glanced down at the floor, immediately turning to vomit at the sight that greeted her.

The body of Mary Lancaster was splayed open across the floor, her chest ripped open and sternum splintered in two. Her intestines had been pulled out, scattered around her graying body, and her face had been slashed beyond recognition. The only indication of her identity- a trademark bow remained in blonde hair, gleaming as red as the blood around it.

A headless corpse lay beside her, several stab marks littering the torso and thighs. The cuts were jagged and deep, blood oozing from them even after the heart had been ripped out. It lay beside the stump that was once a left arm, appearing to have been crushed and yanked apart.

Several other bodies were scattered about, some with their faces slashed and others with multiple stab wounds. Some were even missing limbs and heads.

And, standing center in the carnage, was ten year old Tom Riddle. He had Andy Lancaster's head in his hands, one wrapped tightly around his hair and the other holding the bottom of his neck.

"Ah, Mrs. Cole!" he said happily, smiling brightly when he saw his guardian in the doorway. His fingers squeezed the flesh of Andy's neck, causing a thicker trail of blood to flow down his arm and drip from his elbow to the floor. "You're just in time to help me show Andy my new friend!"

With that said, he viciously slammed the head against the mirror. The sound of breaking cartilage and bones was heard, along with a wet slap of blood and flesh meeting glass. A glob of clotted, congealed blood fell from the bottom of the neck, meeting the floor with a wet plop, and Tom frowned slightly.

"See the problem? We can't get to him. But I'm sure if I try hard enough, he'll see me!" He pulled the head away from the glass, leaving a pool on the floor, and slammed it back into the mirror. The skull cracked along the forehead, causing a chunk of brain to fall onto the floor.

Tom giggled and looked at her expectantly.

Mrs. Cole immediately slammed the door, shoving the key into it to lock it closed, effectively trapping Tom in his room with his carnage. She felt an ounce of guilt for leaving any live child in the room, but quickly squashed it. All the children in there were beyond dead.


	2. Chapter 2

_"_ _999, what is your emergency?"_

 _"_ _Y-yes, I need the police and maybe a-an ambulance to come to Wool's Orphanage as soon as possible."_

 _"_ _Alright, and what is the state of the emergency?"_

 _"_ _He-he just-oh god, there was so much blood. I never thought he would-"_

 _"_ _Alright ma'am, you need to remain calm. A dispatcher is en route and should be there shortly. Now, can you tell me what exactly happened?"_

 _"_ _I-I was downstairs cleaning and-and I heard screaming. A lot of screaming. I just thought everyone was playing or picking on Tom again-"_

 _"_ _Who's Tom?"_

 _"_ _Tom Riddle. He's one of the orphans here. He-Oh god, he just…A few minutes later, the screaming stopped and then I heard sobbing. I thought-I was sure-someone had gotten hurt and would come to me for help. After a while, it got quiet…really, really quiet…"_

A choked sob.

Silence.

 _"_ _Ma'am? Are you still there?"_

 _"_ _Oh, oh yes. It's just…"_ A shaky breath. _"When I opened that door…I survived a war, I fought on the front lines-but that. That was just-"_

"Mrs. Cole? Who are you talking to?"

 _"_ _Tom! How did you-?"_

A shuddering gasp was heard, followed by a dull thud as the receiver fell from her grasp _._

 _"_ _Ma'am? Are you in danger now?"_

A scream resounded through the receiver, followed by a wet gurgle and sickening squish _._ A small giggle was heard as the receiver was picked up.

Silence was heard, broken by light breathing into the phone.

 _"_ _Ma'am? Is she okay? Are you-?"_

"Mrs. Cole is so silly sometimes. Everyone knows our doors lock from the inside and outside _._ "


	3. Chapter 3

_The room was a light gray color and chrome, with a tiny window far up the wall. He was sitting at a table in the center, picture covering the top of the table, displaying disturbing images of mutilated orphans._

"Why did you do it?"

"Don't answer that. It's leading."

 _He ignored the question, focusing on the giant mirror behind the man. It looked black, but not the same shade of black as his hair or the suite the lady beside him was wearing._

"Why did you kill them?"

"Seriously? This is how you interrogate a child? Disgusting. Don't answer that either."

 _The cuffs dug uncomfortably into his wrists and he tilted his head, trying to get a better look at the boy on the other side of the mirror. He looked like he was talking to Gandalf._

 _"_ _I didn't mean to kill them. They were just being too mean and so rude." He said, drawing his attention to the officer when Gandalf left the mirror. Mirror Boy just frowned. "I was simply trying to show them I was right."_

"Tom, don't say-"

"And what were you right about?"

 _He said nothing, just smiled passively and pushed a picture of a decapitated child across the table._

The officer, one Kingsley Shacklebolt, sighed, tapping his pen on the pad in front of him. This was going nowhere, he realized, and began to gather his photos to leave. The social worker, Miss Smith, stood as well.

Tom watched them as he unlocked the door and both stepped into the observation room, shutting it behind them.

His chief, Alastor "Mad-eye" Moody was staring at the child on the other side of the two-way mirror, a small frown on his face. Officer Shacklebolt approached his boss and held out the file for him to take. He grabbed it, never taking his eyes off the young Riddle.

"What do you think?" Shacklebolt asked, eyeing the small child as he observed the room. He was experimentally tugging at the handcuffs, jiggling the chain and giggling at the sound. Shacklebolt was having a hard time believing this child was a murderer.

"I think he needs a-" Miss Smith began, only to be interrupted.

"I think we need to keep an eye on him." Moody said, opening the file and glancing down at the pictures. The decapitated head of a child was on top, his eyes staring lifelessly at the camera and a large hole in his forehead.

Moody made a disgusted noise and closed the file, eying Tom with suspicion. He was currently craning his neck to look around the room, arching off his chair and pulling the chains connecting his wrists and ankles tighter. It was such a curious and childish motion he was almost willing to believe the boy was not the one who committed such a monstrous crime.

"He could be more dangerous than he appears."

Almost.


	4. Chapter 4

"A holding cell? Please tell me you're joking. He's ten!" Miss Smith said irritably, slamming open the door of Moody's office and barging in.

"Can't a man get lunch in peace in this place?" Moody grumbled, removing his feet from the table to sit properly in his chair. His takeout was placed on the table and he took a sip of his tea before answering her. "Yes, a holding cell. It's typically where we store criminals."

"He is no criminal and you know it." Miss Smith said, crossing her arms and eyeing his takeout in disgust. She hated Chinese food. "He's only ten for God's sake."

"He confessed to murdering five other children." Moody said, picking up his fork to shovel another bite of fried rice into his mouth. "I'm pretty sure that classifies him as a criminal, ten or not."

Miss Smith rolled her eyes, about to inform Moody of the legal rights her client had to a trial and being innocent before conviction, plus the coerced confession, when the high-pitched scream echoed through to precinct.

* * *

The teen in the cell was seated across from Tom, forcing him to make eye contact with the primary suspect of the massacre at Wool's Orphanage. The story had aired at lunch, the actual events taking place earlier in the morning.

It was unnerving being in the same space as a potential murderer.

All he could do was stare at Tom like he had just stomped on his puppy's head and forced him to eat the entrails. Tom was stared back with a look that said he was going to step on his puppy's head and force him to eat the entrails.

Suddenly, Tom's stare turned into a grin that did not reach his eyes. The teen flinched, trying as hard as he could to melt through the bars of their cells to freedom. It wasn't working.

"I made a friend today." He began, kicking his feet and causing the chains on them to clank together. While Tom was cuffed at both wrists and ankles, the teen was only cuffed at his wrists, giving him the freedom to use his legs.

"He's really cool, looks a lot like me too!" Tom continued, ignoring the police officers who would occasionally glance at the cell and the teenager trying desperately to make himself thin enough to slip through the bars. "In fact, he's behind you now." He pointed to behind the teen and he hesitantly turned, only to frown.

He was pointing down a short hallway that led to several different offices, all with tinted windows on the top half of the doors and large signs hanging over them with giant gold writing. There was not a single human in sight.

He turned back to Tom, and nearly jumped out of his skin. The child was leaning close enough that their faces were inches apart, back slightly hunched as the connecting chains pulled his arms down and he tried to pull his face up.

"Did you see him?" Tom breathed, breath ghosting over the teens face and grin turning feral.

The teen froze, shaking his head slightly. "N-no. There's no-no one there." He managed to stutter out, mentally berating himself for being so scared. This was a child, albeit one who could kill five children and a grown woman, but a child nonetheless; he was at least a foot taller than him and had twice the muscle.

Tom's smiled dropped, a scowl making its way onto his face. He would be lying if he said he hadn't wet himself a little at the terrifying sight.

"What do you mean you can't see him? He's right there!" Tom demanded, leaning in closer and causing the teen to lean away more.

"Um, s-sorry?" he said, trying to pacify the child before him.

Tom's scowl melted away into a blank look, his shoulders slumping slightly as he sighed. "That's what they all say." He muttered, looking down at his cuffed hands and ankles.

The teen gulped, nodding slightly in agreement and feeling an unwanted sting of pity. He could easily forget that the child in front of him was a murder and not a sad and lonely little kid who had his trust broken one too many times.

That illusion was shattered moments later when his head snapped up, an insane smile gracing his face. "It's okay. I'll just help you like I helped the others."

As tiny hands threaded into his hair and panic began to rise within him, Orion decided that decorating the police wall with graffiti had not been worth it.

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 **And, from here on out, the updates are going to slow...maybe. My manager has stepped down so the old one is coming back and I am to be put on day shift again-aka, the shift causes me the most stress and panic in my life. Night shift is calmer, and I come home in the mood to write and not curl up in my bed and die. So, not giving up, just slowing down...and I'm sorry for the short chapters. (I am really happy and flattered that you guys love this.)**


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